Monday through Friday I worked at Dixxy's Diner so my tutoring time had dwindled down to the hour I had after school before I left for work except on Thursdays I went straight to the diner with Red. Over the past couple of weeks, Tweek and I had somehow gotten in the routine of leaving school together, going to my house for sixty minutes, then I'd drop him off at his house all the while learning and absorbing trigonometry.

Clyde was unhappy with this and I had to tell him that it was only for three more months. Well—he didn't like that one bit and like a baby, he threw a tantrum, saying he'd teach me trigonometry himself. I didn't even remind him that he'd stopped taking math after Algebra 2 his argument was just that stupid. He was upset that we weren't spending any time together to which I'd said that if he wanted to hang out with me then he could buy a burger at the diner. When he'd heard that, he'd thought I was insinuating that he was fat and that if he did go then he "might as well bring Cartman along so that they could be fat fucks together." I'd had to ask him not to do that, please.

My grade was now a thirty-nine percent and Tweek's tutoring was slowly but surely working. He assured me that our teacher would bump it up no matter what my grade was on the last day of school, even though that was in December and it was currently September, but that I should keep trying just in case. So I did and I wasn't sure why. I think it was because after the first week which had been the hardest, he'd started to look excited about being a teacher.

When I did good on the assignments and quizzes returned to me, he looked proud. Not of me but of himself. And strangely, that made me proud also. Not of him but of myself because if it hadn't been for me actually trying then Tweek wouldn't feel the way he did.

It was weird because I wasn't sure if I was thinking for myself or for him, so I decided to cast it away from my mind. It was even weirder going in-depth like that.

At the moment we were on our way to his house so that I could drop him off. He was in the middle of rambling about angles and hypotenuses when he unexpectedly stopped. The only reason why I noticed was because I was actually paying attention, and that was a big step compared to the weeks prior.

Glancing at him, he didn't look to be in any kind of mood. He was just sitting there with his notes in lax hands, staring out the window.

"You give up on me already? I thought I was doing good."

He turned his head and I wasn't sure what to make of the emotion he wore on his face. It looked as though he were on an investigation like he was a detective. "You're asexual, right?" He finally asked.

"Isn't it a little too late to judge me based on my sexuality?" I meant it as a joke but my voice was just too monotone for stuff like that. I hoped he understood. Since he was gay, I didn't want to upset him when it came to a topic so fragile.

"I'm just curious."

"Of course you are." I came close to feeling bad about saying that one but then I asked myself why I cared if I upset this kid or not. Truth was, I didn't.

He wasn't angry, though. He perked up instead. "Can I ask you something?" I hummed an affirmative. "If you weren't asexual, would you like girls or guys?"

That was an easy one. People asked all the time. "I wouldn't care."

"That's nice of you." I must've made a face because he continued. "I was expecting you to be defiant about ever liking someone."

"Surprise." He smiled at my joke even though it wasn't a good one. "I'm going to ask you something, too." That's right. I told him I was going to ask a question.

"Yes, I'm gay." Another glance told me that he was joking as well.

"Well, glad you cleared that up." He smiled at me and it was strange. All of his teeth were perfectly aligned and his gums didn't show. Was it natural to have such a perfect smile when you were so fucked up in the head? That wasn't my question for him. "Do you like me?"

"What?" It wasn't an exclamation, but the kind of "what" that you muttered after the most anticlimactic ending of all time. Had he wanted me to ask about his perfect smile instead? Because I still could.

"You totally want my nuts, don't you?" I said instead.

When he laughed, I didn't know what my opinion on it was. It didn't make me want to laugh with him like Token's did although it was soft on my ears and I guessed that was good enough. I hadn't expected the blonde to have such calm sounding laughter since he was spasmodic and all. "And you're asking that in all seriousness?"

"Yes."

Tweek was silent for a moment. A good silence that was a good ending to his good laugh.

"Don't get me wrong, you're really cute. But I still hate you for beating me up in third grade." I liked that answer and I wasn't sure why the hell the blonde was getting out of my car when I realized that I was parked in front of his house. How long had we been sitting there? "If you want, you can pick me up in the morning and we can study before school. We have that test tomorrow." He was speaking through the door, waiting for my answer so he could close it.

"That's fine."

By the time I got to work, I realized he'd put a "really" before the "cute." Yeah, this kid totally wanted my nuts.

Token had dubbed my morning ritual—the one where I crawled out of bed and moaned, followed by stumbling sluggishly out the door—my "zombie walk". He must've unintentionally jinxed me because ever since being named, I pursued a zombie-like personality for the rest of the day whenever such mornings occurred.

Unfortunately, today told me that it was a zombie day.

That's why I was dressed in camouflage sleepwear and "camouflage" wasn't being used as an adjective. My clothes were camouflage because they fit the dress code but in reality I slept in them. Literally. I had woken up today and left the house only bothering to grab a pair of shoes and my backpack. Didn't even brush my teeth.

So you could expect my reaction—aloof, indifferent, just plain old "don't care"—when my body remembered to pick up Tweek while my brain did not, and I had no idea where my car was taking me for the longest time, but I let it do the driving anyways until I reached the Tweak household.

Then I felt ashamed when I realized how much of an idiot I could become when I was zombified. To forget such a menial task was on par with Clyde's level of stupidity.

This was not okay.

"Hey, I-I hope you don't mind that I brought Thomas along but I totally understand if you don't want to take us anymore! There's still time to walk—" He sounded regretful. I figured it was because he hadn't asked.

"Cool story, bro. Get in the car." I was hunched beneath the wheel of my seat, busy trying to find a cigarette, and didn't feel like listening to this kid cry about whatever the hell he was telling me. My spare pack hidden underneath the seat grazed my fingertips. I pulled it out, smacking it against my palm to pack it.

From the rear view mirror, Thomas smiled at me. He looked strangely happy, maybe because for once he wouldn't have to walk to school. "I haven't seen you for a while, Thomas. Still got Tourette's?" There had always been a sort of fondness I felt toward him over his disability.

"Of course. It's a permanent illness."

"Awesome." Pulling out of Tweek's driveway, I handed my pack to him. "Pick one."

"N-No thank you. I don't want one." He raised his hands as though all he saw were dirty worms inside the package. To some people that was what they saw, but Tweek would have to resist the urge to own a vagina for one second. "Just pick one." Uncertain, he leaned over the open box. Tentatively, he reached out a hand about as fragile as Red's. Disgusted, he plucked one after much consideration, which was ridiculous because there were only twenty identical picks to choose from. He held it out to me. "Flip it around and put it back." In a confused manner, he did as told, now staring curiously at the cigarettes. "That's my lucky. I'll smoke that one last and you have smoke it with me."

He blushed as though he'd done a remarkable deed, sitting back with a content set to his mouth. "I highly doubt that's going to happen. You're welcome, though."

That's what you think. But since I was tired, I let it go for the time being.

Thomas laughed from the back seat, "You're so humble sometimes."

"Humble and a pansy," I mumbled under my breath. It was meant to be heard, though. I just felt like being quiet like I always did. It kept things nice and boring. The blonde responded with a cross scoff. I said, "It's true. If you're gay, you're a pansy."

"Seriously? That's a ridiculously stereotypical statement and completely wrong. Thomas is gay and he's not a pansy." After Tweek came out for his friend, there a strange exchange of thankful glances on Thomas's part through the rear view mirror. I wondered if that was his idea of secretive or if I was supposed to witness the weirdness of their communication.

Honestly, I just kind of felt like I was missing out on something.

"When did everyone decide to turn gay on me? Jesus Christ." I held my pack back out to Tweek, telling him to collect a different cigarette: one that I'd smoke on the way to school.

He did just so, over-thinking his pick like he had the first time. I didn't understand what was so hard about it but I let him think it over anyways. When I asked him to light it, he turned spastic, freaking out about how he'd drop the flame and kill us all. It was technically impossible seeing as all I had was a regular BIC lighter.

Thomas obliged to do it in his place though, and was oddly excited about it.

I'm pretty sure that I passed out for a minute or two while my entire fifth hour waited outside the classroom for our teacher who was occasionally a dumbass and liked to be late. Lunch must've been an awesome time for him. Well, the wall was an awesome time for me because if it hadn't been there I'd be knocked out on the floor. And I was a tall fucker.

I probably would've been the first kid to actually die at our high school through means of falling like timber. So that kind of accomplishment seemed pretty much worth it.

"Are you sleeping standing up?" If I didn't answer, he'd leave. "C-Craig?" Man, he just sounded downright worried. He wouldn't leave sounding like that. "Sweet Jesus, y-you're not in a fucking coma are you?" A diabetic coma actually didn't sound too shabby at the moment. Clyde had shoved my stomach full of cinnamon rolls during lunch, making a coma a plausible excuse.

"I'm not in a coma." As my eyes opened, I glanced down to spot Tweek staring up at me, eyes alight with a crazed sense of worry. He looked about ready to piss his pants and the deep sigh of relief he let out was horrifyingly genuine. How had this kid honestly thought that I was in a coma?

"Just sleepy?" He guessed, washing his words down with a sip of coffee from his thermos. The exaggerated emotion in his eyes dimmed with the comfort of his drink.

"How'd you come to that conclusion?" He narrowed his big eyes at my sarcasm, attempting to pass as indifferent. But I was the Indifferent King, and nobody beat me at that. Especially little blonde boys with no self empowerment. When I refused to admit defeat and continued to drill my stare into him with blank owl eyes and a relentless willpower, he snapped his head in the other direction and broke eye contact.

"Are you ready for the quiz?" He asked sheepishly. That's right, bitch. Who's your daddy? Craig motherfucking Tucker is.

"Of course. I just came out of a coma and now I'm all set."

"Good, because I didn't tutor you for nothing so you better get a good grade." I stood corrected. Especially little, blonde boys with no self empowerment who sometimes had backbones. "If you feel like your falling asleep, I'll seriously give you some adderall."

"No thanks. You need it more than I do." The blonde flinched, insulted by my statement. I would've apologized by covering up my obviously hurtful words with sarcasm or by telling him that it had been a joke, but there was never a point in lying.

I had meant what I said and I believed that Tweek understood that because he didn't ask me a bonus question like he always did before every quiz or test. He didn't look at me for the rest of the period or ask whether or not the problems had been easy or hard. He didn't ask our teacher to grade my paper early so we could find out my score right then and there. He didn't freak out, all excited, over my good percentage or have to calm himself down with one of his little yellow pills because we never did find out and our teacher gave me an odd look when Tweek fumbled out the door by himself.

He was acting like I had just betrayed him except there was nothing to betray. We weren't friends or acquaintances. I didn't even know why the hell Tweek had started talking to me and it wasn't because he wanted to help raise my math grade. The blonde either had a boner for me or was a weirdo. Quite possibly both. Either way, he didn't have to treat me like he thought I murdered his cat. He probably didn't even own an animal.

Why were gay guys such bitches? And I would know. Clyde was pretty much as gay as they came and he was a huge bitch.

I ended up sitting through sixth hour wondering what I had gotten on my quiz. Had our teacher graded it on impulse since we've asked him to do my paper first so many times before? But the quiz wasn't even an issue—of course I passed it. My problem was the upcoming final test. If I failed that...shit. The blonde was my brain. I had to get him back, at least until the end of the semester.

When school let out, I picked my way through the crowded hallways and shoveled past the annoying bystanders who thought it was cool to stand like figurines in the middle of the floor. Poor kids didn't know that I drove like a drunk driver and knew very well how to barrel through road blocks.

Tweek was easy to find, standing next to Thomas who looked to be feeling the brunt of some kind of angered lecture from his friend. I mean, he stuck out like sore thumb with his obnoxious blonde hair and constant stench of coffee. I wondered if he shoved coffee beans down his pants every morning or something. Not that he smelled bad; I just thought coffee tasted like shit.

"Hey, Coffee Bean," I called. "I'm not done with you."

At my sudden intrusion, both of the boys jerked in surprise. Thomas's entire facade woke up, gleaming with exuberance—which was strange. Tweek was the exact opposite, dismissing my greeting by avoiding my entire presence. His cheeks were pink and I presumed that was because of the nickname I'd entitled him with. Too bad for him I was ridiculously straight-forward.

"Give me your adderall if it makes you feel better, alright?"

He turned away from me, whispering, "I don't want to give it to you now."

Wow. This was like talking to Clyde when he didn't have any money for lunch and nobody was willing to pay for him or share. "You're seriously going to act like this? Roofie me, then. I don't give a shit. Just make sure I pass this class."

His jaw ground together, lips tight as he contemplated a decision even though he didn't have one. This little shit was just being stubborn. Exactly like Clyde, which was good I guessed, because that meant I knew how to deal with him.

At his side, Thomas shook his shoulder, and the movement was oddly distinguishable by the way he was staring at Tweek with a look of distinct longing. He urged Tweek through the action of his hand to accept my very unflattering order. Thomas was almost acting as though my passing grade was as important to him as it was to me.

That's not creepy.

"Fine," Tweek muttered. "But only b-because I've gotten you this far and it'd be a waste of my time if you failed now and—"

"Awesome. I'm going to stop you there because you're just rambling and nobody cares, alright?" He nodded his head fast, cheeks brightening further. This kid got embarrassed way too easily. "So are we good with tutoring today?"

"Y-Yeah, sure, of course. I—uhm, Thomas?"

The golden blonde blinked rapidly, seeming to have been fixated on me for quite some time. I was internally frowning at that. Did I look like an idiot today? I thought sweats were a fairly regular article of clothing, especially on zombie days. Maybe my pits were extremely hairy.

After a quick glance, I deemed them normal. More than normal, actually. They were fucking godly.

"C-Craig?" Tweek's voice sounded uncertain. I met his stare—a mixture of curiosity and a smidgen of fear—with one of my own that was a different mixture of blankness and innocence. "What were you doing? I-Is there a bug or something? I have repellant in my backpack—"

Sometimes it was just best to cut him off before he got started. "I was just checking for excessive amounts of pit hair." And sometimes it was best if one just didn't even question me, because that just sounded fucking weird.

"Excessive amounts of pit hair? Sweet Jesus!" Tweek's shirt was bunched up in his little fists and caught under his neck as he inspected his hairless armpits, looking up at me with such urgency when he found them empty. "Is none okay?"

I figured that the people passing by were staring since there were two strange oddities to look at: Tweek had his chest exposed, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing at his absurd question. Is none okay? Although there could be three if you thought Thomas, Tweek, and I hanging out in the hallways was off, and it kind of was because neither of the two were black or on the football team, and both of them definitely weren't ladies men.

"Do you shave your pits or something? Or have you not hit puberty yet?" I asked, simmering my laughter down to a light, teasing tone.

"Body hair is gross." Was that supposed to be a jab at my manly exterior? "N-Not on you. It's just—damn it, that came out wrong. I think it's fine on other people, sometimes not everyone; on certain people it's just gross, b-but not me. Like, you look okay with it—n-not that I've been paying attention! I—fuck, man." To save his face, I was just going to ignore that entire spiel.

"So do you shave your pubes, too?" The embarrassed squeak that flew from the blonde's mouth—dude, it was weak. I was beginning to think that Tweek was a hermaphrodite.

"I'm not telling you!"

"You do." I smiled charmingly down at him, feeling mirth in the way his breath caught, the way his neck grew speckled with pink. That satisfied me. "Alright, let's go. You need a ride, Thomas?"

"I'm fine. Kenny's giving me a ride—bastard! Be careful: he's coming up behind you and he's going to grab your ass." I was too uninterested to block my vulnerable behind, but I did care enough to at least turn my head to watch him do it, which he did showing a mouth full of teeth.

After groping me, he nuzzled the tip of his nose into my hair and mumbled a few words against the shell of my ear. They were too slurred to be coherent, and I might've thought they were important, but nobody ever knew when it came to Kenny. You just took what he gave you and dealt with it.

"I hope Craig hasn't been too much of an asshole." Kenny's wishful thinking was directed toward Tweek. "I heard about your guys' discovery at Burger King. Stan and Kyle weren't too happy with Craig's behavior, so I figured he's been treating you the same way."

"That was weeks ago," I filled in.

Tweek spared me a glance before answering. "Craig's always an asshole." Everyone got a laugh out of that and I wasn't sure why.

"The only reason you're getting away with saying that is because I won't graduate without you."

"I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." Tweek's words were like sugar and syrup, completely sarcastic.

"God, you're gaying up the hallway."

"Oh yeah?" The blonde challenged, figure straightening in a way that would've been threatening had I been a foot shorter. Not taller. "I'm going to gay up your car, too. And your house. How do you like that?"

"As if you haven't already?" His frame deflated at my sudden comeback. Suck it. "You can gay up my life all you want just as long as you don't touch my room. You're too scared to go in it, anyways."

"You're scared to go in his room?" Thomas sounded baffled and slightly disappointed. Had he wanted to know what it looked like? It was worth being disappointed over seeing as the golden blonde would never get a description. Although sadly, it was the truth. I had been trying to move the whole tutoring ordeal into my room whenever my dad came home early, but since the mention of demonic activity, Tweek wouldn't even walk by my closed door to go to the bathroom.

"Dude. Craig's room is fucking awesome, Tweek." Kenny sounded genuinely shocked, which was always fun to see because he usually knew everything. It was a relief to be reminded that this wasn't the case. "He's got so much random shit in there. Craig's room is fucking Craigifer Reece Tucker in a nutshell. You wanna know this guy? Check out his crib," he said sarcastically. His meaning was meant to be taken literally. "It's the window to his soul." Which was just a slight exaggeration.

It was pretty obvious how the two short blondes froze in reaction to hearing my full name. It was really fucking obvious. They looked like little twin gargoyles. Creepy little things because everyone was always creepy when they discovered who I actually was. Not that I was anyone special. My complete name was just never expected.

Proof being the petite best friends before me. Proof being Kenny when Clyde had let it slip to which he'd then forced my mom into showing him my birth certificate. Proof being Red when I admitted that "Craig" was just a short version of my first name like "Red" was for Rebecca. She'd claimed that we were best friends on that comparison alone. Proof being my sister's little buddies when they admitted to having a crush on me without knowing what I looked or acted like, basing their infatuation purely on a first name basis.

What made it extra creepy was how much my sister liked it and how often she bragged to her friends about how cool of a first name I had.

I thought Reece was pretty catchy also, but Craigifer always took the spotlight for some reason.

Without a word I started walking, refusing to cope with the awkwardness that I only I ever seemed to feel in situations regarding my birth name. To me it was definitely time to leave and if I had to do so without Tweek then a shit wasn't going to be given. I'd care later, but that didn't matter until then.

When I exited through the double-doors, that was about the time the blonde caught up, bustling out after me with a winded look on his face. It was hard to believe that the short run had really been that exhausting. If he was a couch potato I'd understand, since I was one too, but I didn't think he was the type.

Maybe my name had left him breathless. Maybe he was secretly friends with my sister.

"Is your first name really C-Craigifer?" He asked with a tender voice, eyes full of interest.

"Craigifer Reece Tucker." It was such a finalizing statement to say all three in combobulation. Maybe it was just a guy thing. Like when I got married it'd be like Bitch, you're a Tucker now.

"I didn't even know there was a long version of Craig. It's so different a-and I can see it. I mean, t-that's a perfect name for you I think! Not that I know you very well or anything but you seem like a different kind of guy or—uh, person in general. That's really cool how your parents found it or thought of it because I'm just—you know, Tweek Tweak. Mine gave me the same name twice a-and I don't even have a middle name!" I'd thought something useful was going to come out of that ramble, but apparently I'd been wrong. Except maybe the part about no middle name.

"Is that why Kenny always puts 'motherfucking' between Tweek and Tweak when he greets you? Because there's just an empty space?" The blonde frowned. That sounded a bit ridiculing, hadn't it? "So I can call you Tweek Dicksucking Tweak from now on, right?"

His fragile hand, delicate like glass, stabbed me in the side and it literally felt like someone had struck me with the edge of an underestimated, shattered mirror. I yelped in an utterly mind-blowingly masculine fashion, and grabbed the blonde's offensive hand by the wrist which caused him to reenact my previous noise in a way that actually made mine sound manly. Forget hermaphrodite. This kid was a woman in disguise.

He tried to pry his limb from my grasp, twisting his thin wrist inside the circle of my fingers. After whining my name a few times—the shortened version—I lugged him in front of me. Tweek stumbled a few steps over his own feet before I steadied him with my hands on his shoulders. Through the thickness of his coat was the frailness of his bones, and I realized just then how different this little blonde kid was compared to my best friends. How different he was compared to me. I felt like I'd crush his shoulder blades if I squeezed too hard.

"W-What are you doing?" His voice shook with an emotion like fear or unwanted anticipation. Did he always think that I was going to hurt him? Push him around? Belittle him? I did it a lot, but not to mock him or purposefully attack him. I was just as Kenny said and everyone else thought: I was an asshole.

My arms wrapped around his chest, and the blonde's skin was cold when the top of my hand brushed against the underside of his chin. I pushed him forward with my chest against his back to keep him walking. The chill sticking to the strands of his hair tickled my cheek as I lowered my face to rest atop his fluffy mane. Tweek was so tense in my hold that I was worried he'd trip and break apart into little ice shards.

"You know my full name now, so I have to treat you like this," I informed, the words pressing warmth against the shell of his ear. "You've been initiated into my coven. Just a heads up, I'm a little weird."

"Coven? But I'm not into w-witchcraft. I don't have Wiccan blood, either!" When I snorted, he calmed down, boots shuffling awkwardly against of sidewalk, while I tried to side-step his feet in order to keep ourselves from falling. I didn't feel like collecting all the itty-bitty broken pieces of him. "Is this your way of saying we're f-friends?"

"Something like that," I said.

It was then that I wondered how the hell I'd survived the whole day without a jacket.

Maybe I really was a zombie.

Is anybody else as turned on by the name Craigifer as I am?